


Constant Denial

by InLust



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hogwarts AU, Quidditch match, Rivals, Rivals With Benefits, Secret Lovers, margaery is a tsundere, sansa is wicked aggressive during quidditch, violent quidditch match
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 21:05:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5470757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InLust/pseuds/InLust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hogwarts AU. Sansa and Margaery are the most aggressive captains that have ever played Quidditch against one another. But they’re so much more than that. Even if Sansa tries futilely to fight against it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Constant Denial

**Author's Note:**

> SOOOOO i wrote this because i dont know i love sansa and margaery as rivals but they're so good together it just takes them forever to realize it 
> 
> i kind of had this idea from "ah those two. in a fight, they're lethal. around each other, they melt"
> 
> also they're both seventh years if anyone is wondering

Sansa wants to throw her broom through Joffrey Baratheon’s head passionately. Maybe just whip him across the face with the stick. She’d never been so angry before.

She holds the club in her hand and does something that works just as well. Listening as a bludger howls in her direction, she clutches the wood and aims it so the ball collides it with a crack of her club. There’s a breath of satisfaction as she watches the bludger launch itself towards Joffrey.

He has no time to react at the goals when the bludger knocks him in the stomach mid-laugh with a sickening squelch. He’s not really laughing anymore as he falls off his broom onto the ground into the sands with a dull thump.

The Quidditch match doesn’t stop. The rest of the Slytherin team look a cross between frightened and angered at Sansa.

Sansa holds her jaw tight and continues to fly around the pitch to protect her teammates.

“What’re you looking at?!” the voice of Margaery Tyrell, their captain and chaser, screams at them angrily. “Get it together!”

Sansa is hovering around their keeper keeping a close watch on any incoming bludgers. She looks up and sees a flash of red and gold in the light. Her sister Arya is being toyed with the Snitch, meaning the game would be over soon enough.

There is a roar from the Slytherin crowd and Sansa looks to see the captain of the Slytherin team fly around the goal post with her fist in the air. Her cousin Elinor is trailing close behind recovering the quaffle.

Sansa darts down to find the incoming bludger. She knows exactly where to redirect it.

Margaery is flying from mid field, looking as beautiful as ever. You’d think with a raging match, she’d look haggard and flustered, but she doesn’t. She smiles brightly and looks completely unruffled. Her brown hair looks almost blonde against the silver and emerald that she dons.

Elinor tosses Margaery the quaffle.

“Sam, watch your left!” Sansa yells in warning as she flies into view with her club raised. The bludger flying in her direction

The keeper looks baffled but turns on his broom to see Margaery.

Margaery quirks to the sound of the captain’s voice and returns the quaffle to Elinor as she hears another crack of against the bat. She whips her broom around, her hair catching wildly in the wind.

She intends to fly off but the bludger is already too close. It clips against the side of her left cheekbone and knocks her back.

The crowd collectively gasps as Margaery slips off her broom and almost falls. Luckily, the captain is named for a reason. Margaery grabs her broom quickly to catch herself and swings under and around it to remount herself. She briefly presses her gloved hand against the red mark blooming on her cheek before flashing to her team.

“Do your job, _Loras_!” she yells at her brother angrily.

Her twin brother looks terrified and turns his broom to get his head in the game instead of being concerned for her sister.

Margaery stares at the Gryffindor captain angrily before shooting off to recover the quaffle.

Sansa stares smugly before returning to the game.

“Sansa!” she suddenly hears from Arya.

Sansa looks at where her little sister is yelling from and sees her skirting the walls of the pitch, ardently pressed against her broom darting forward, while the Slytherin seeker chases after her.

“Come on, Arya!” Sansa yells in return. She can’t do much. Margaery has gone on the offense and has been taking shot after shot to tie the score. She continuously rallies the bludgers against the Slytherin team.

To see Slytherin against Gryffindor on the field was like watching a battle happen. The competitive spirits of their houses rages on between the two captains. It’s evident in all respects. While Sansa plays aggressively to beat down every Slytherin teammate, Margaery plays furtively to destroy Gryffindor inside out (and to irritate Sansa).

All Sansa can do is protect her teammates and trust that her sister’s ability to capture the Snitch is well worth the effort.

“Margaery!” Loras yells in distress.

Sansa looks up to see Margaery make her way to aid her brother because they all know flying too high ends poorly. Suddenly, there’s a loud crack behind her and Sansa feels the bludger whip by her to follow Margaery. Her heart drops because she can’t catch up with how fast it all happens.

The bludger clips the back of Margaery’s broom and she slips off her broom. Everyone is screaming from the Slytherin crowd at this point.

The Gryffindor holds her breath and shoots forward, clutching her broom and hoping she’ll make it in time. She doesn’t even notice that Loras has pulled back from his chase for the Snitch. All she can think of is getting to Margaery.

All she can see is silver and green falling from the air. Sansa curses as she pulls underneath. Her arms are outstretched and Margaery’s weight falls straight into her arms.

Margaery catches her breath and shoots her eyes to Sansa. Sansa tries not to make a big deal out of it. The both of them share a blush.

The crowd behind them is all cheering.

“Don’t you two look like a fairy tale,” Arya adds with an all knowing smile.

The captains look up to see Arya sitting on her broom with a smile on her face as she plays with the snitch in her hand.

Margaery huffs. “It’s not like I _asked_ her to save me,” she protests as she crosses her arms. She is still being carried by Sansa, so now she just looks petulant.

Sansa rolls her eyes. “You have to hold me while we descend,” she grunts.

The Slytherin captain reluctantly wraps her arms around as Sansa flies them down to the ground with the rest of the players. They barely even make eye contact as their feet touches the ground. They join everyone in sharing handshakes and begrudging good jobs.

Loras has a bright smile on his face as he rushes to them. He throws his arms around Sansa’s neck. “Thank you for saving my sister!”

Sansa freezes at the sudden contact but luckily it’s brief. “No problem,” she says nonchalantly as she jerks her hand between them.

Loras enthusiastically shakes it with both hands. “If you _ever_ need anything. Please let me know!”

Sansa shoots her eyes over to his twin sister, wondering if she’d be happy to hear him make an offer like that. Luckily for Sansa, she knows better than to let any Slytherin think she’s eager to cash in on a favor. “I’ll let you know,” she says coyly before heading to the locker rooms with the rest of her team.

\----------------------

Sansa is bone tired by the time she changes and eats dinner. Generally she wants to be rid of the dirt and grime from Quidditch matches but after all the emotions she’s spent today, she wants to relax. A nice bath in the prefect bathroom is something she desperately looks forward to.

She carries her bag with her towards the secretive bathroom and whispers, _Lemon cakes_ to open the doors. Looking around, she wonders if Moaning Myrtle is around to harass her.

It is her lucky day.

She lets the water fill the small pool, picking out rose scented bubbles to fill the air, as she strips down.

After a solid victory, Sansa feels sated. She only put _three_ people in the infirmary in this match, which is a new _low_ record for her. Her teammates commend her for it and the rest of the school wonders how that ferocity comes from such a _sweet_ girl like Sansa during Quidditch.

Sansa sinks into the water with ease. It makes her happy to right her brother by knocking that bludger into Joffrey’s chest. If anyone deserved it that match, it was Joffrey. She wasn’t even allowed in the infirmary to visit Jon because of that hit. Madam Pomfrey was scared that Sansa would hurt Joffrey...she wasn’t _incorrect_.

The muscles in her body start to relax as the pressure from the water shifts against her. Sansa leans her head back against the side of the pool and holds herself up with arms outstretched. She breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth.

The ebbing and flowing of the water against her body relaxes her even further. She is nearly asleep when she feels familiar lips press against hers.

She jerks awake and the water splashes as she whips around.

Margaery is kneeling at the edge of the pool with her green and silver tie loosely hanging around her neck and the top three buttons of her shirt undone. There’s a bruise coloring at her cheek from the Quidditch match but she still smiles brightly.

“How did you get in here?” Sansa snaps, trying to cover herself underneath the bubbles.

Margaery coyly untucks her legs to dip them in the water. “I have my _ways_ ,” she responds noncommittally.

“Is there a _reason_ why you are here?” Sansa asks as she dips into the water to cool her full bodied blush.

Margaery pouts a bit as she leans forward with her hands gripping the edge of the pool. “I _just_ wanted to see how you were doing.”

The thing with Margaery is that, she says one thing, but obviously means another. Sansa just wants to bathe and get to studying for her NEWTS.

“I’m doing well,” the prefect answers curtly. She knows what Margaery wants. Margaery hums in approval as she kicks her feet playfully in the water to watch the bubbles ripple. Sansa sighs. “Uh...how is your--” She gestures at her own cheek before wiggling her fingers at Margaery’s. She realizes that her arm might expose her, so she drops it quickly as her cheeks flare.

“Oh this?” Margaery touches her cheek gently. Her voice sounds so innocent but her eyes glow playfully. “It’s nothing too bothersome.” She pauses. “But, I do have to say, you’re starting to take love taps a little too _aggressively_.”

Sansa looks at the bubbles. “Sorry,” she mutters.

Margaery laughs wholeheartedly that it catches Sansa’s attention again. “Come here, Sansa,” she says with a crook of her finger.

Sansa huffs. She really doesn’t have time for this. “Margaery…”

“Don’t you want to kiss it better?”

 _There it is._ Sansa rolls her eyes. “Not in particular,” she says brusquely. She is _lying_. She does _want_ to kiss her but she shouldn’t. She _should_ know better.

When Slytherins are determined to get something they desire, they have no problem getting it. No matter what.

Margaery spares Sansa the coy flirtation and unceremoniously slips into the pool, uniform and all. She ducks under water with a smile on her face.

Sansa backs into another wall of the pool, unsure of where Margaery is going to appear from under the bubbles. She yelps at a tug of her leg.

Margaery reemerges spitting out the water playfully right before Sansa.

All she can do is press harder against the wall of the pool. “Margaery, I really don’t have time for this,” she protests even though she doesn’t want to.

The Slytherin wades towards her, curls completely limp and uniform pressing against her skin. The look in her eyes are completely predatory as she advances towards Sansa. “I came all the way from the dungeons to see you,” she pouts. Her hands come up on either side of Sansa, boxing her in.

Sansa tightens her jaw, trying to remain strong. Margaery’s voice always sounds like honey to her. As much as she is disgruntled by her presence, it’d be a lie if Sansa said she hated Margaery. She won’t admit it, but what they have is completely opposite of rivals.

“Kiss it better, Sansa, it hurts,” Margaery whines as she leans her bruised cheek towards Sansa’s lips. “ _Please_?”

Sansa blushes and hugs her chest because she can feel her nipples hardening. “Fine.” She presses a chaste kiss on the bruised flesh. “All better?”

Margaery pouts. “Make it up to me?”

“Are you going to annoy me until I do?” Sansa asks with an exasperated sigh. She _knows_ better.

 _Margaery_ knows better. That’s _why_ she is so persistent.

Margaery doesn’t have to work so hard for Sansa. Margaery could skip the verbal foreplay and ask. Sansa would never admit to that though. Sansa doesn’t want to express to the pureblood that she is at her wicked whim. Out of all the Starks, Sansa has learned they can do so much better than bow in nobility.

“You _like_ it,” Margaery points out.

Sansa neither confirms nor denies this. She just slowly reaches for Margaery’s tie and tugs it sharply so Margaery falls against her with a gentle splash. “Tell me where else it hurts.”

If Sansa wanted something, she knew how to get it too.

 


End file.
